


we knew every line

by orphan_account



Category: Tanz der Vampire - Steinman/Kunze
Genre: Alfred is bad at feelings, M/M, magda is probably going to take over the world any day now, self harm warning guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:08:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred is having a hard time coping with being a vampire, mostly because he shouldn't have to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we knew every line

**Author's Note:**

> I AM SO SORRY.

It’s not like he does it on purpose, mostly. It’s just that he’s never had to worry about it before—not about too-long teeth, or the sun, or the feeling of want that hits him when he’s so hungry he thinks he can smell the people in the village below, all warm and ali—

It’s not like he does it on purpose, at least not at first.

For the first few months of living in the castle it just happens. He’ll move his mouth wrong and his fa- teeth will cut into something. It took three weeks to convince Herbert that he doesn’t need to come make sure that yes, he knows it’ll be day soon, and yes, he knows that means he has to get in his coffin, he’s _already in his coffin,_ Herbert _go away._

But soon it stops. The bloodlust becomes normal for him and maneuvering around his teeth comes as easily as if he were born into it and he’s terrified. He’s terrified that the monster that isn’t in the mirror is all he is now he can’t stand it. He was never supposed to be this, he never _wanted_ to be this, but he never had a choice. All he had was a girl who didn’t love him and a professor whose notes came before him.

One day, he forgets and when he looks into the mirror on the desk in the room Herbert picked out for him he expects to see himself. When he doesn’t, the surprise is enough to make him bite straight through his lip.

And that’s how it begins.

Sometimes when he feels too natural in this monster skin, he bites down until he feels blood well up out of two identical holes. It hurts, but more than that he feels… pride isn’t the right word, exactly, but it certainly isn’t the wrong one. He knows he’ll never be human again, that he’ll be this thing forever. But this way, oh, this way he knows he remembers that isn’t the way it was supposed to be.

What Alfred fears most is, of course, the day his transformation is complete and he no longer feels guilt or shame or anything that makes him what he was. The pain is such an insufficient thread tying him to his past, but all his so-seemingly-secure ropes blew away in the storm. It’s all he has.

*

Once, about a month after… well, just after, he waits until he knows the sun will be just barely peeking over the hills, new and cautious, and he slips a hand through his heavy velvet drapes. It doesn’t come as a burst of pain but as a gentle sting that slowly builds. He almost forgets what he’s doing until the pain spills over into truly agonizing and he has to grit his teeth as he forced himself to press his hand to the glass. He can’t hold it for long. Soon self-preservation wins out over self-flagellation. He’s a bit dismayed but not at all surprised that his hand still feels like the sun’s on it and the burns don’t heal as rapidly as his lip.

He wonders, because he is a scientist, if vampires heal more slowly from all burns or just those from the sun. He wonders, because he is a man, how something no longer there can still hurt so much.

When he wakes up the next night, the burns still haven’t cleared so he pulls on a pair of gloves from the clothing Herbert has heaped onto him because “really, darling, I adore you but your taste is _hopeless_.”

Herbert, when he sees, smiles so widely Alfred is afraid he’ll hurt himself. Alfred smiles back, and it tastes like someone else’s blood and the air in the University library and garlic.

*

Herbert is another piece that refuses to fit into the puzzle. Over his months at the castle, Alfred has come to feel… something for him. He feels his stomach churn whenever the older vampire smiles at him, and he catches himself wanting to run his fingers through his silver hair. At first, Alfred assumed his flirtation had been a means to an end, the end being he and the professor failing to foil the vampires’ plot. Now that was accomplished, and Alfred had been sure Herbert would cease and desist; however, if anything, Herbert’s advances become more ardent. He finds little reasons to touch Alfred—a hand on the shoulder or at the small of his back or a leg brushing his whenever they sat together. Gifts were not uncommon, and neither was Herbert seeking out Alfred’s opinion on something and overpraising whatever the latter said. It’s nice, until Alfred realizes Herbert is, in many respects, quite childish, and Alfred can remember how quickly his childhood infatuations were over, be it with a pet or a local girl. It makes sense, Alfred supposes, that he behaves as such. Herbert is immortal, or at least the next best thing. In the vast span of his life he has experienced so little. In comparison to how long he will live, his life, which spans centuries, has been…short _._ Alfred finds he cannot fault his suitor for how he will soon lose interest, though he’s surprised at how badly the thought hurts. Alfred isn’t particularly smart, or handsome, or interesting. He’s just new, and newness can only last so long.

*

He’s pretty sure Magda knows exactly what’s going on, but that could just be because Magda terrifies him. She’s been a vampire for all of a day more than him, but it’s like she’s been one for centuries. She is his antithesis; it’s like she spent her whole life waiting to be bitten and now she is who she was always supposed to be. She doesn’t try to hide it when she watches him. She knows he won’t do anything. Alfred isn’t the only one she unnerves; some of the older vampires petitioned for her to be cast out with Chagal. Herbert very swiftly put a stop to that.

“I’m not about to let anyone hurt the people I care for,” he later murmured into Alfred’s ear. “So tell me if anyone bothers you, hmm?”

He bites two new holes in his lip, reminding himself the definition doesn’t really extend to him.

*

The worst part is how hungry—thirsty?—he is all the time.

It’s not like when he was little and couldn’t have snacks because snacks weren’t there to be had. Now the food is everywhere, which is part of the problem. It’s hard to resist doing to the unsuspecting, warm-blooded humans what the world has been doing to him for years, to uncaringly sink in his teeth and drink them dry. But he won’t, he can’t just leave himself behind so easily. So he starves until Herbert notices the way he wobbles when he walks and forces him to drink bottled blood while fussing over him.

As a child, Alfred read everything he could get his hands on, which at the time was mostly children’s books and fairytales. They gave him hope. In them, the poor boy proved himself to the noble king and became a knight and killed a dragon and married a princess and lived happily ever after. Even in his darkest moments, he was just in waiting for his great adventure.

When Sarah went missing, he knew what was happening. The evil king had kidnapped the maiden fair, and now it was up to the hero, pure of heart and mind, to rescue his love. But in the stories, the maiden loved the hero back. In the stories, the king lost. In the stories, the brave hero defeated monsters. He didn’t become one.

He had read all the stories, he knew every line. They didn’t end like this.

*

It ends one day when Alfred is standing in front of his window wrapped in a blanket and waiting for the sun. He doesn’t want to die, he just wants to see it, one last time. One last glimpse at the light before an eternity of darkness. He hadn’t gotten a chance to tell it all goodbye when Sarah had bitten him so suddenly, and it hasn’t seemed fair. It won’t kill him immediately, he knows. He’ll have enough time to take a quick look and the draw the curtains and jump into his coffin with nothing damaged a little time couldn’t heal.

He doesn’t lock the door because he doesn’t think he needs to, and that’s his first mistake.

The sun isn’t there yet, but the light is outlining the mountains in white and Alfred’s redundant breath catches in his throat. He just stands there watching while the light expands and begins reaching out to touch the land. His eyes begin to hurt and the skin around them tingles with the prelude to a burn but he just tightens the blanket around himself. He is enraptured, and it is his second mistake. Caught up in the light, he doesn’t hear footsteps (first steady and then rapid) or Herbert’s sharp intake of breath. He doesn’t realize he isn’t alone until there’s someone in front of him sharply jerking the curtains closed.

He’s aware that he’s been grabbed by the shoulders and that he’s being yelled at, but between the ringing in his ears and his blurring vision it seems so distant. He blinks rapidly, frowning. He’s not sure when his vision became so fuzzy. The pressure on his arms lessens and he feels Herbert stroke a gentle hand along the side of his face and then he’s being led. He stumbles a few times before Herbert gently lowers him into his coffin and feels the pressure of another body squeezing in beside him as the lid is lowered. Herbert wraps his arms around him, stroking his hair and whispering things in his ear he isn’t ready to understand yet. He thinks he’s crying but he isn’t sure.

*

When he wakes up again, his vision is better but he still has a mild headache. Herbert is still asleep, wrapped him with his face in Alfred’s hair. Alfred notes that one of his own hands is clutching Hebert’s sleeve, the other arm pressed between them with his hand cupping Herbert’s neck. He becomes suddenly aware that this position is fairly uncomfortable and attempts to gently shift away. Herbert wakes up almost immediately.

Alfred can pinpoint the exact second Herbert remembers why they’re in the coffin together.

“So, darling,” the older vampire drawled, his eyes unreadable, “would you like to discuss why you thought waiting up for the sun was a good idea for a vampire? Oh, silly me. I made that sound like a _request_ , didn’t I? Why don’t you start with telling me _how long,_ exactly, this has been going on.”

Alfred’s eyes flick down to the ruffled neck of Herbert’s shirt. He doesn’t answer, but then, he doesn’t think Herbert is really expecting him to.

“Right, right,” Herbert murmurs as he nods to himself. “That settles it then.  I’ll be accompanying you for now.” When Alfred starts spluttering he adds, “It’s just until I’m sure you’re not about to do something else monumentally stupid, dear.”

After a moment of stunned silence, Alfred blurts, “But why do you _care?_ ” He feels like he should be angry about his freedoms becoming even more limited, but instead he’s just confused.

Herbert tries to pull away far enough to see Alfred’s face, but finds he can’t. He opts to open the coffin lid and soon Alfred has a faceful of silver hair as Herbert’s face looms over his, studying him.

“I’ve told you before, darling. I won’t let anyone hurt the people I love.”

Alfred opens his mouth to say something but realizes he doesn’t know what to say. He frowns again, mouth working uselessly around words he can’t speak. Herbert, strangely, looks a little like his heart is breaking.

“I think you have not had nearly enough people in your life tell you how magnificent you are.”

“But I'm _not,_ ” and Alfred really hates how much he feels like he’s about to cry. It isn’t that he thinks he’s worthless, just… average. He’s okay, which is fine. Okay is okay.

Herbert’s lips press down at the corner of his mouth hard before trailing up to his ear, and Alfred sharply draws in a breath he doesn’t need. “You followed around an old man who was forever undermining your considerable talent and ran into a castle full of vampires to save the girl you loved. You are clever, and brave, and _very_ cute,” Alfred could feel his lips quirk up on the last bit, “really, how does it come as such a surprise to you that I love you?”

“In, um,” Alfred was having a very hard time concentrating. “In my experience, love at first sight doesn’t tend to work out so well.”

Herbert suddenly sat up, straddling Alfred’s hips. “Why, Alfred. I thought you a scientist.”

“What?”

“Is it or is it not true that accurate conclusions cannot be drawn from only one point of evidence?”

“I—Herbert, that’s _different_!”

“No, it isn’t! I love you. If you’ll have me, I’ll love you forever. I'm a vampire, I'm very well acquainted with the concept of eternity. I know exactly what I'm promising you, Alfred, and I mean every inch of it. If you don’t want me back, that’s one thing, but if you keep running from me—if you keep doing all of this to yourself—because you’ve somehow gotten it into your head you aren’t worth it, then I'm afraid I can’t leave you alone just yet.”

“ _Herbert_ ,” Alfred says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. It comes out as a plea.

Suddenly, he’s being kissed. It isn’t gentle, but it isn’t rough either. It’s passionate and enthusiastic, like Herbert has been waiting for this. Dimly Alfred thinks that this is what it would feel like to put a bit of lightening on his tongue. As far as kisses go, Alfred is fairly inexperienced, so he digs his fingers into Herbert’s hair and opens his mouth a little wider. Herbert groans and tilts his head to get a better angle and Alfred isn’t sure why having someone else’s tongue in his mouth feels so nice, but it does.

When they break apart, Herbert’s mouth is swollen and his eyes are dark. Alfred wonders how he looks. From the way Herbert’s looking at him, he guesses it isn’t too bad.

“I love you,” Herbert tells him. Alfred believes him. “It isn’t your fault you think you’re a monster; when everyone tells you something is ungodly and you suddenly realize that that’s what you are it isn’t easy to see yourself in the same light as before. But you must remember, there are monstrous vampires and monstrous humans and monstrous everything in between. It’s who you are that makes you a monster, Alfred, not what. And I can tell you now that you are no monster. It just might take some time for you to realize that as well.”

Alfred swallows. “And if it takes a long time?”

“Then I’ll be there.”

“And if it takes forever?”

Herbert cups Alfred’s face, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones. “Then I’ll be there.”

As Herbert leans down to kiss him again, Alfred thinks to himself that maybe he was reading the wrong kind of fairytales.


End file.
